Commiseration
by Eienvine
Summary: Third chapter up: Absolution. May we have some more music? he asked, smiling beatifically in the way that only Albus Dumbledore could after throwing a former Death Eater into a room full of Aurors and Ministry officials. I think I fancy a waltz. DG
1. Commiseration

The fic is very slightly Draco/Ginny- so slightly that I hesitate to call it that. It's definitely D/G interaction, though. The story is the result of 3 AM inspiration; writing it in the dark kitchen by the light of the street lights outside may account for a bit of a somber tone. Draco may be a bit OOC, but I think he's believable.

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Pretty well nothing you see here is mine.

Commiseration

I stumble into the tower, my eyes heavy with the threat of tears. I spare a thought to ponder the irony of which room my feet have taken me to- once, a late-night trip to the Astronomy Tower would have been a major accomplishment. Not now. Tonight the tower is empty; no one wants to be in this place but me.

As the door clicks shut, the tears I have been suppressing all evening finally get the better of me. I begin to cry, softly at first, but my sobs grow in intensity until I crash onto the floor, watering the cold stone with my hot tears. I know the window seats are padded and more comfortable than my present position, but I also know those windows look down on the front lawn, and I don't want to look at that blackened chaos. I don't need to look at it, anyway- it's all I see when I close my eyes, that twisted evidence of battle.

It was my first real battle, the first time I killed, the first time I saw death. The shock and horror of it all have been imprinted so firmly on my eyes that I think it may be quite some time before I can banish from my mind those vivid images- of battle, and of death. And that of his face.

The thought brings a fresh onslaught of tears, and I cling to the stones in the floor with my fingertips as though I'm afraid of falling. _Neville._ I can see, in my mind, the exact expression on his face as he fell, the very look that haunted his eyes before they closed forever. He shouldn't have died. He was one of the best people I've ever known, and he never got a chance to prove it to the world. He died completely alone, with no one but me to mourn his passing. It shouldn't have happened this way.

Of course, none of this should have happened. Hogwarts was supposed to be safe, protected from the Death Eaters. I was supposed to pass my sixth year in peace, away from the war, where my only problems were keeping my brother out of trouble. Harry Potter was supposed to be able to finish his schooling and live out the rest of his childhood, before he had to become an Auror and join the fight against Voldemort.

Everything that was not supposed to happen, however, happened. A student helped coordinate an attack on Hogwarts- not Malfoy, surprisingly, but Crabbe. A large group of Death Eaters attacked in the early afternoon, and all of the professors and older students combined were barely enough to drive them off, especially since many of the Slytherins turned and fought for the dark side. There were many casualties on both sides, and in one afternoon, our whole world changed. Everything that was supposed to be disappeared in the blink of an eye. Now Hogwarts will be closed and the students sent home. Now the school will be turned into a training facility for Aurors, and Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and my brother Ron will be their first recruits. Now I will return to 12 Grimmauld Place and become a junior member of the Order of the Phoenix- I proved myself that much today. And now Neville is dead.

My tears have created quite a puddle by this time, but I don't move, simply lay in my own tears and think of him. I was never romantically interested in him- no, it's not that at all. It's just that . . . I have a sneaking suspicion that despite his talk about people he knew from home, I was his only friend.

My tears subside a little, but I don't move from my spot. As I lie trembling on the hard ground, I hear a deliberate rustle of cloth and realize the tower is not deserted like I thought. I look up and see the moon glinting off silver and black, and I sit up quickly, embarrassed and wary to be here alone with Draco Malfoy.

I don't know whether to fear him, although I don't seem to remember him fighting with the Death Eaters. It's actually well-known that he hasn't joined Voldemort yet, and that his father is disowning him for it. Come to think of it, I don't know who he was fighting for, although I remember seeing him on the battlefield once. If he really was a Death Eater, he would have left the school after the battle, right? Still, he's a Malfoy, and I can't help but be wary. He's leaning against the wall in his school uniform, his robes tossed aside. The moonlight from the window is shining across the front of his clothes, although his face is still in shadow. His sleeves are rolled up, and I can see the smooth, unblemished skin of his left forearm- no Dark Mark.

"Weasley," he says, but there is no malice behind it. "Malfoy," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. I force myself to stand, brushing my hair out of my face, and seat myself on a bench along a dark wall. I keep waiting for Draco to make some snide remark about me looking like a mess and acting childish, but he doesn't. As I think about it, I realize he's been quieter this year. Something about him has changed, though I don't know what or how much.

He suddenly speaks. "I never thought it would get this far," he says, and somehow I know immediately what he's talking about. I don't know why he's telling me this, but I listen closely. "I always thought my father's talk about Voldemort was idle threats, to intimidate people. I saw it as a part of the game I played, to bully people. I liked the respect, and the power." I know somehow that he's apologizing, in a way, for years of torment. "I liked being rich, and having what others did not. And I really did hate Potter." At this I grin, shakily after so much crying. He gestures to the windows. "But to get it at this cost . . ."

He walks to the bench I'm on, and as he does he passes through the light from the window. I almost gasp. His eyes are too bright, and his face is streaked with tear stains. It's the first time I've ever seen him display any real emotion besides anger, and he looks very vulnerable. His face is still its pale color, though, and I can see that even while crying he never completely lets himself go. In that brief instant, as he's seating himself on the opposite end of the bench, I come to understand him in a way I've understood few people before. Instead of seeing a rich, arrogant dark wizard in training, I see a boy who hides behind a mask and a name, a boy who's learned from experience to keep people at arm's length. I see a boy who had to grow up before any of us, before even famous Harry Potter, if he was to survive in his father's cruel world.

Armed with this new understanding, I find myself, for the first time, completely comfortable in the Slytherin's presence. Draco looks around the tower a few minutes, gripping the edge of the bench. Apparently he feels the need to explain himself- probably trying to save face in front of a Weasley. "Goyle," he says suddenly, pulling a piece of broken wand out of his pocket to show me. Goyle, I remember, was felled by the hand of Alastor Moody, who rushed to Hogwarts soon after the battle began. Draco looks at the broken wand a moment before speaking in what is the most human tone I've ever heard him use. "He joined the Death Eaters to please his father," he tells me, then shakes his head. "After he died, all his dad said was-" here he gives a hollow laugh- "'Disappointing, that he was so weak.'" His grip on the broken wand tightens. "I know he was a big stupid jerk, but he was my friend."

He looks at me, willing me to understand, and I nod. A few moments of silence pass, and then I speak up, wanting my own soul-easing confession. "Neville," I say, and Draco looks at me with one disdainful eyebrow raised, a hint of the arrogant boy who once strutted through these halls. I press on. "He had nobody. His grandmother is dead, and his parents have been aware of very little for a long time." I wipe away a tear. "I think I'm the only person who cares that he's gone."

As Draco looks at his hands meditatively, I marvel that I'm pouring out my heart to Draco Malfoy, of all people. Isn't this the boy who taunted my family, hurt my friends and tormented by days? It isn't, though, I realize. That was the face he wore. That was the role he played because it pleased his father and served his childhood selfishness. The real Draco Malfoy looks more like this, brooding and thoughtful and even sensitive.

Perhaps it is this new understanding that makes me bold enough to speak again. "Sometimes," I say tentatively, and he looks over at me, "sometimes I'm afraid that I'll be like that- that no one will care when I die. I've always been in other people's shadows, especially the wonder trio's." Draco smirks a little at this. I do my best to smirk back. "No one knows me for anything, unless it's the Chamber of Secrets. I'm afraid that when I die, people will recognize my name but not be able to remember anything about me."

Draco is silent for a long time after this. Just when I've decided he's not going to reply, he speaks softly. "I have nothing worthwhile in my life. I've done nothing; I have no one. My father won't speak to me until I join the Death Eaters, and everyone I know has either joined Voldemort, or they hate me. Someday I'm going to look over my life and realize there was nothing in it."

I stare at Draco, floored by this revelation. The only thing I can think of is an urge to fill that emptiness. Before I can think, I'm sliding across the bench toward him. I place a hand on his shoulder, and he tenses a little. "I don't hate you," I tell him. "You listened to me bare my soul tonight, and I'll always appreciate this. That's something worthwhile." His shoulders relax, and he looks at me a long time.

Then he smiles, still guardedly, but it's a big step for him. "And you listened to me tonight," he says. "I'll always remember that." He puts a hand over the one I still have on his shoulder. "I'll remember you for that- not your brother, but you." It's a strange but nice feeling- two people from very different backgrounds but uncannily able to understand each other, comforting each other in our grief. I guess it turns out we're a lot more alike than we think.

My watch suddenly beeps, and I look down to see it's two o'clock. He sees it as well, and without words we simultaneously stand. As we walk to the door, I steal a glance at my one-time companion of the night. Tomorrow, things will be different. Tomorrow I will be shipped off for the front lines of the war, and he will disappear for parts unknown. Who knows when the next time I'll see him is? And who knows under what circumstances? He could be an ally, the next time our paths cross. He could be my most hated enemy.

But no matter how we meet next, I'll always remember this night, when the heartless Slytherin cried for his lost friend. The night when a Malfoy let down his walls and let a Weasley in. The night when I realized that he and I aren't so different after all.

In the hallway it comes time to part ways. We look at each other a long moment, then I lick my lips and speak softly. "Goodbye, Draco." Goodbye, not good night. He looks at me with inscrutable eyes a moment, then pulls me briefly to him with one arm and brushes his lips against my forehead. "Goodbye, Ginny," he says, then releases me. We share one last look, and I smile a bit, tiredly after so much crying. He looks steadfastly at me and his eyes soften a little. Then he walks away, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway. I watch him go, then turn and make my way back to my room.

fin

Sorry to anyone who was expecting some Draco/Ginny action! We had some nice INTERaction, though, right? Anyway, please use the nice little link below and tell me what you think!


	2. Mitigation

This story was never going to go any farther than the first chapter, but on Fiction Alley a bunch of people asked for a sequel, and I finally gave in and wrote this, plus a third and final piece called "Absolution" that will be up next. And since I wrote them, I figured I might as well post them here. Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: Don't own nothing.

--

Mitigation

Hogwarts, it seems, never changes. It's been standing since before the Normans invaded England, so you'd think that at some point in the last thousand years, something would affect it. I'd been sure that the war, at least, would have changed it somehow. After all, it was attacked repeatedly by Death Eaters, and was used as a training facility for Aurors.

It is actually just the opposite. When I arrive by carriage in front of the old castle, it looks exactly the same as it did when I attended school, and for a moment I revel in pretending that the past year has been a bad dream. I imagine that I'm pulling up to Hogwarts for another year of school, that my parents are still alive, that much of wizarding Britain is not in ruins from the fierce war.

The snorting of the thestral in front of my carriage, however, pulls me out of my reverie. The fact that I can see the strange animal is testament that the past year did in fact happen- when I was at school, I could never see them. Only those who have seen death can see thestrals. Of course, after the time I spent in the war, I see the dark horse as clear as day.

The memory of the deaths I saw in the war makes me shiver and pull my patched cloak tighter around myself. I don't think I like being back here. It's bringing back memories I've spent the last three months trying to repress, and I wonder, not for the first time, why I bothered responding to Dumbledore's letter. It's in my pocket, but I don't have to pull it out to remember what it says- I've read it often enough in the past two days:

_To D.M. – Please come to my office at Hogwarts by noon on the fifteenth. There is something I would like to discuss with you. – A. Dumbledore  
_

It's just like him to write a note like that, summoning me to his office as though I was a student at Hogwarts and could simply excuse myself from class to go see him. Unfortunately, I've been living in Clonmel, Ireland, for the last three months. To get to Hogwarts by the appointed time, I had to apparate to Dublin, fly a borrowed broomstick across the Irish Sea, apparate to Hogsmeade, and take a carriage into Hogwarts. It's taken all morning, and again I wonder why I even bothered coming.

I was happy in Ireland- or at least, I was away from England, and my neighbors left me alone, which is all the happiness I have the right to expect from life. But then the letter arrived, and some impulse drove me to agree to come. I don't know why, when I already know what he's going to say. It's exactly what he told me three months ago, after the end of the war: that it's time to come home, that the war is over and not to worry, because people will forgive me. I don't believe it any more now than I did then. No one in Britain right now will want anything to do with a Death Eater and a murderer.

Scowling angrily, I pull my duffel out of the carriage and walk inside the castle. Everything looks the same, feels the same, smells the same, and it brings on an unwelcome rush of memories of my childhood. I try to block them, but once the gates of memory have been opened, they refuse to shut again. I remember a childhood spent trying desperately to please my father; I remember finding comfort in a beloved mother who died near the beginning of the war. I remember an adolescence spent playing the bully, to shut others out of my life, and I remember the only person to ever see past that mask.

I quickly find the stairs and climb up to the next floor, eager to distract myself from my thoughts. Lingering in memories, I've learned, is dangerous- the memories of my father, long since killed by Remus Lupin; the memories of my mother, killed by a misfired spell during a battle at Malfoy Manor; the memories of the people I myself have killed. Wincing, I break into a run, eager to be done with Dumbledore and away from this place.

Dumbledore's office hasn't changed, but Dumbledore has. He looks even older, which I didn't think was possible. His eyes, however, hold the same sparkle I remember from school. When I enter, he smiles warmly at me and comes to shake my hand and lead me to a chair. I can see he hasn't escaped the war unscathed: one of his hands is covered in an angry purple scar, and another scar intersects one of his eyebrows. Although it wasn't me who gave him those scars, a wave of guilt washes over me.

He doesn't seem to notice. "Draco, my boy, it is good to see you," he says, seating himself behind his desk. "It's been quite some time."

"Three months," I reply. I haven't seen him, or indeed anyone who knows who I am, since Voldemort fell, defeated for good this time by the hand of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. From my hiding spot in the loft of an old barn, I watched the Dark Lord and his inner circle fight the Order and finally fall, taking Alastor Moody and Emmeline Vance with them. No one knew I was there watching except Voldemort, and I will never forget the look he shot toward me when he realized I'd betrayed him. If Harry had not managed to defeat Voldemort, he would have come after me and I would be dead, killed in some horrible way. Sometimes, I think I wouldn't have minded.

"Draco?" The headmaster is speaking again, and I realized I have been lost in my thoughts. "Sorry," I reply, looking down. I don't know when I got so subservient and well-behaved; it was probably after being hit with the Cruciatus for the tenth or eleventh time by my father, when he was trying to force me to join the Death Eaters- a method of persuasion that, to my eternal shame, worked all too well.

Dumbledore sighs, and I look back up at him. "Draco, you've been hiding too long. Do you not wish to return home and rejoin our world?" I sigh in return. "Albus-" we're on a first name basis now- "we've already been through this. I can't return. If I'm not arrested and killed by the Ministry, I'll be lynched by some rabid mob."

We really have been through this. I told him my plans to go to Ireland the night after the final battle, when I went to 12 Grimmauld Place at his summons. I had to creep in to avoid waking anyone; none of them knew I'd been helping the Order, and if anyone saw me, they wouldn't have hesitated to pull out their wands and kill me. Dumbledore, at the time, wanted to come out in public about what really happened- how I turned against the Death Eaters and began, secretly, to help the Order. I, however, didn't think it was such a good idea; I may have helped at the end of the war, but I spent six months before that as a full-fledged Death Eater, harassing and killing just like the rest. Nothing I did later can make up for that. I told Dumbledore this at the time—told him that I wanted to stay in hiding rather than face the people I fought against, whose friends and family I killed—and he agreed to keep my secret.

I can see in Dumbledore's eyes that he's thinking about the same discussion. "I know how you feel about the time you spent as a Death Eater," he tells me. "But surely you can see that your hand in the defeat of Voldemort will help people to forgive you. Think of Severus Snape. He was a Death Eater in the first war, and even when he worked for us as a spy he had to kill Muggles in order to keep his disguise. But when people found out the truth, the way he helped us, they welcomed him back with open arms."

I shake my head. It's not the same thing at all. Severus had friends in the wizarding world who supported him when he came back. I have no one. "Look, is there anything else you want to say? Because if not . . ."

Dumbledore has been examining my face closely, but at this he sits back and nods. "Yes," he says. He gets up to walk to the fireplace, where he throws some Floo powder in and says, "Minerva McGonagall." The old transfiguration teacher's face appears, and Dumbledore smiles. "Could you send our visitor in?" he asks, and she nods before disappearing.

Before I can ask what just happened, Dumbledore's back at his desk. "I have a plan," he says, "a plan to reintroduce you to society, to clear your name, and keep you from getting 'lynched,' as you say, in the process." I sigh, but to my own surprise I don't object- somewhere in the back of my mind, a part of me wants to hear his plan, to be convinced that it's somehow possible for me to return to England.

Dumbledore smiles and continues. "Tonight, there is a Ministry ball to celebrate the three month anniversary of the end of the war, and I want you seen there, escorting a member of the Order." I stare at him, confused. He continues. "Before you enter, I will tell people the truth of how you turned your back on the Death Eaters and spied for the Order. They will not believe it, but when they see you with one of our war heroes on your arm, they will be convinced."

"And exactly who are you going to be able to convince to go out with a known Death Eater?" I ask sarcastically, secretly afraid of what the answer might be.

He smiles, his eyes sparkling, then speaks the name I both long and dread to hear. "Ginevra Weasley."

My heart jumps into my throat, but I keep my face impassive, the result of a lifetime of training. My lack of reaction, however, seems to tip him off that something's up, and he raises an eyebrow at me. "Do you disapprove? I believe she will be a good choice. She's well-liked, was a prominent member of the Order of the Phoenix, and is the daughter of the Minister of Muggle Relations. And I believe she will do this for me, if I ask her." There's a knock at the door, and I freeze. "Ah," says Dumbledore, smiling. "There she is."

In an instant I'm out of my chair, casting my eyes about for somewhere to hide. What can Dumbledore be thinking? Does he know how I feel about her? From the twinkle in his eyes, I suspect that he does, and I have a sudden urge to throttle the man. It's my first day back in England since the war, and he has to pull a stunt like this. I don't know whether to kill him or thank him for bringing me in contact with _her, _the person I want to see both least and most in all of England.

To my relief, Dumbledore motions to the door at the back of the office, and I hurry quietly back to it and slip inside. I find myself in his living quarters, but don't even look around before I have my ear pressed against the door. I hear him open the door and greet his visitor warmly, then footsteps as he leads her into his office. Then I hear a voice, and I don't even have to peek through the crack in the door to know who it belongs to.

I'd know that voice anywhere, even after a year. One of the few things that sustained me over the war is the memory of those quiet tones telling me that I had once, for the briefest of moments, been worthwhile to her. I know that she's only a Weasley, and that she probably only said it to be polite, but it's still one of the few acts of true kindness I've ever experienced.

Chairs squeak against the floor, and I assume they've sat down. They begin chatting pleasantly about what's happening in their lives, and as her tones wash over me, I find myself slipping into memory.

The moment that most people my age mark as the real beginning of the war is the attack on Hogwarts last spring. That was the moment that the line was drawn and everyone had to pick sides, to show their true colors. Many people were watching me, wondering what I'd do, especially those few Slytherins who did not leave after the battle to join the Dark Lord's side. That night, in the nearly empty common room, they all watched me with veiled eyes, waiting to see what side I would choose. I simply sat and sneered at them, all the while feeling the world fall to pieces around me. One of my best friends was dead, and the other was a Death Eater. My father was going to kill me- literally- if I didn't join Voldemort, and everyone who could have protected me hated me. The whole world was going mad. Unable to bear the other students' watchful gazes, I left, fleeing up the Astronomy Tower where I could be alone to cry—I certainly couldn't be seen doing so in my common room, because Malfoys never cry. But then the door to the tower opened, and the most unlikely of people stepped in and fell to the floor, sobbing: Ginny Weasley.

Even now, a year later, I remember that meeting perfectly- the moonlight on her crying form, the feel of her hand on my shoulder, the girl who never mocked me during that sorrowful night. She was a Weasley and a Potter fan, but she listened to me pour out my sorrow, and she trusted me enough to bare her own soul to me. In that night when we talked in the Astronomy Tower, Ginny saw past my mask and my name. She didn't assume that I must be evil, the way everyone else has. She entrusted her emotions to me in a way that no one else I've ever known has done. And although she never said anything to this effect, I felt like she saw me as something more than everyone else did. Her perception of me was different, and it changed my perception of myself. She became the voice in my head, my barometer for what's right and wrong. This new concept of who I could and should be made me hate myself every moment I was a Death Eater; it is what drove me to turn against Voldemort in late December and help Dumbledore work for the Dark Lord's downfall.

At that point in my life, I'd been very lost and very alone for a long time, and that night I was reaching out for something to hold onto. Ginny was there, a kind, beautiful constant for me to cling to, and I fell in love with her that night, in a way- not a schoolboy's infatuation, but a connection to her on a deep level. And it is because I feel that way about her, and because I know how she saw me that night, that I don't want to see her now. I don't want to look in her eyes and see that moment of recognition when she remembers that I am the lowest of low, a Death Eater, a killer. This is why I am furious with Dumbledore for bringing us both here.

I suddenly hear Dumbledore's voice, very close to the door. "I need to ask you a favor, Ginny," he says. "Do you have a date to the ball tonight?" There's silence, in which I assume she either nods or shakes her head. "Well," he continues, "I wonder if you would do me a favor and take a friend of mine." "Who?" she asks. "Let me introduce you," he says, and before I can react the door to his quarters is thrown open and I'm left blinking against the bright light and staring at the girl who has haunted me for the last year.

She hasn't changed much. Her hair is shorter and straighter, and she's wearing Muggle clothes, but her face and her expressive eyes are the same. Those beautiful eyes widen on seeing me, and with incredibly quick reflexes she whips a wand out of her pocket and points it at me, her mouth moving into a curse. After that one reflexive movement, though, she seems to freeze, her fingers gripping the wand so hard her knuckles are white, her face slightly contorted as she tries to curse me. She doesn't, though, and from the look on her face she can't seem to go through with it. I wonder if she figures I'm no danger to her with Dumbledore there, of if she really can't bring herself to harm me. I decide I'd rather not know the answer to that question.

I'm hurt by her reaction more than I can say. I don't really know what I expected her to do, but I was not prepared for the horror on her face. It only makes sense that she would try to kill me, but it still hurts.

Dumbledore approaches and gently pushes her wand arm back down. "I know this is a strange request, Ginny, but I must ask you to consider it." She nods stiffly, her eyes never leaving my face. Dumbledore steps back and asks, "Have you ever wondered how we knew where Voldemort was going to be when we attacked that one last time?"

Her brows furrow, and he launches into an explanation of how I turned against the Death Eaters and acted as a spy during the war, and how my tip on where Voldemort's next meeting would be led to the battle in which the Order managed to surprise the Death Eaters and bring them down for good. Ginny's grip on her wand relaxes slightly, and she stops watching me like a hawk, looking instead at Dumbledore. He is explaining that he wants me to come back from hiding, and that he wants her to go to the Ministry ball with me so that people will, at the very least, not attack me when I step into the building. "People will know you could not have been taken in by him, so if they see you so close to him, they will believe that he truly has returned to our side."

Ginny's face has gone from terse and wary to confused and wary, and all I want to do is tell Dumbledore to forget it and to run away from that place and never look back. Before I can, though, Dumbledore stands and walks the office door. "I want you two to talk for a while," he says. "I'll be right outside if you need me, Ginny." Then he closes the door.

From the look on her face, Ginny is about ready to run straight out the door and away from me. I can't blame her- it's well known what kind of crimes I committed during the war. I guess she really trusts Dumbledore, though, because she forces herself to make conversation, although she's gripping the back of her chair so hard that her knuckles are turning white. "So, you've been in Ireland, then?" I nod stiffly.

"Did you like it? I went to Dublin once- it's a lovely city. That was ages ago, though."

"Stop," I force out, my first word to her today. She flinches a little at that single word, and I have to fight back an angry growl. I can't stand to listen to her talk. Despite her attempt at forced calm in her face and voice, it's obvious that she's terrified of me, and every nervous look and quiver of her voice is like a blow to my gut. I walk to the door, keeping near the walls so I don't get too close to Ginny, and pick up my duffel. "This is stupid," I say. "I'm leaving. Goodbye, Ginny."

It's something about that last statement- maybe the fact that I said her name- that snaps Ginny out of her fear. "Draco, wait!" she cries, and I pause, still facing the door. "Why is it stupid?" she asks, and I laugh bitterly. "This will never work, no matter what Dumbledore thinks. I mean, you have Dumbledore's promise I won't hurt you and you're still terrified of me. Imagine how everyone else will react."

I reach for the doorknob, but her voice stops me again, earnest and plaintive. "I'm sorry—Draco, will you turn around and look at me?" I do, slowly, to find she's gotten closer to me. I wince a little as I see her earnest gaze. There's a scar on her neck, one I know wasn't there before, and another wave of guilt washes over me as I realize she must have gotten it in the war.

"Draco," she says softly, "after all you did, you deserve to come back. Don't you want to live in England again?" I do, desperately, but I don't let her know that. She presses on. "I know people will be scared of you, but when they find out that you helped defeat Voldemort, that will change."

In one swift motion, I drop my duffel and shove my left sleeve up to my elbow. "Will this change, Ginny?" I demand, and she flinches a little at the sight of the Dark Mark on my arm. "This will never come off, Ginny, as long as I live. No matter what I do later, I can't change everything I did in the war when I was a Death Eater. This mark will never go away." I drop my arm to my side, suddenly very tired. "Things will never change," I say quietly.

Ginny looks very taken aback at my outburst. I'm sure she's going to go running to Dumbledore, but she stays, looking at the ground. Finally, timidly she asks, "Was it very bad?" I nod.

She looks up, then. "Why did you join?" "My father," I reply bitterly. "He can be . . . very persuasive. I have the scars to prove it." At this she looks shocked, then her face falls into an expression of concern. I press on, glad, in a way, to finally be talking about it. "He died a few months after I joined, but by then I couldn't leave. Once you're in, you're in."

She takes this in quietly, then asks, "Is that why you turned? You wanted to get out of the Death Eaters for good?" '_I turned for you,'_ I think, then nod. "Getting away was a big part of it."

Her gaze returns to the floor, and I can tell that the next question is as hard for her to say as it is important to her to know. "Did you . . . did you kill, a lot?" My stomach turns, and I begin to hear, once again, the screams that have haunted me for so long. I was only a Death Eater for a matter of months, and I intentionally let many of my victims escape during the time I was working with Dumbledore, but I have still killed enough people to haunt my dreams for years. After this answer, I know Ginny will hate me, but I refuse to show my inner turmoil. I'm still a Malfoy, and emotion is still weakness. I keep my face perfectly neutral as I defiantly answer, "Yes."

There's a long moment of silence while I watch her sulkily, and her brow furrows. Then, without warning, she runs to where I'm standing and throws her arms around my neck. I'm sure she's going to try to strangle me with her bare hands, but as she presses her body to mine and buries her face against my chest, I realize she's hugging me, the first person to embrace me since my mother died. I stand stoically as she wraps her arms tighter around me, refusing to take in her warmth. I don't deserve her forgiveness.

She doesn't seem to notice, though, and as I stand there I realize she's whispering to me, almost crying. "I'm so sorry, Draco. I'm so sorry." I don't know what she's sorry about, but her half-sobs pierce my heart, and all my pent-up grief washes over me. I stand stiffly for few moments longer, feeling my guilt and sorrow and longing surround and suffocate me.

It finally becomes too much to bear, and I suddenly find myself wrapping my arms around Ginny in a bone-crushing embrace, holding on to her as though I'm afraid she'll disappear if I let go. As my grief washes over me, I tighten my arms until I'm probably breaking her ribs, but she doesn't object. I close my eyes and bow my head down over hers, trying to shut out the rest of the world—the memories that constantly plague me—everything that's happened since the last time I was with her—until it feels like Ginny and I are the only two people left on Earth. I wish we _were_ the only two people left on Earth.

"I used to think about you so much during the war," she admits in a muffled whisper. "I used to check the reports of what Death Eaters had been killed, and I was always so glad not to see your name." The thought that she had been thinking of me as much as I'd been thinking of her makes me begin to tremble. I don't cry—I swore to never cry again after my mother died—but my whole body shakes with dry sobs that make my chest hurt. I'm sure Ginny can feel my chest shake, but she doesn't say anything, just allows me to let my emotions out. I cling to her tightly, wordlessly willing her to hold me up, to support me, to stand by my side, to forgive me of what I've done. And in her warm embrace, I feel a quiet acceptance, and for the first time in a year I feel at peace.

We stand there for what seems like hours, Ginny rubbing my back, and I slowly settle down until I'm simply trembling a little. The part of my shirt where Ginny's head is resting is wet, and I realize she's crying. I feel bad about making her cry, but the fact that she feels so strongly makes me happier than I've felt in several months. I want to stay in this moment forever.

Then the real world intrudes in the form of Dumbledore. Ginny and I both look up as he walks in, not caring that the old man is seeing us so emotional. His eyes twinkle as he sees the wet spot on my shirt and the arm I still have around Ginny's waist, and I realize he was expecting something like this when he called us both down here. He smiles. "So, will you come tonight?" he asks as he pulls a lemon drop out of his desk and pops it in his mouth.

I hesitate, but Ginny turns and looks anxiously into my eyes. "You will, won't you? You have to, Draco. Please?" I look down at her pleading eyes, a hundred different thoughts and emotions whirling through my mind. As one of her hands comes up to rest on my arm, that same peace I felt before comes back, and I know in that moment that my mind is made up. I'll go to their ball, if it makes Dumbledore and Ginny happy. I'll tell the true story of my turning and become the hero they want me to be. The only thing that I really want, though, I already have—Ginny's forgiveness. That is all the absolution I need.

Then Ginny calls my name, and I grin. All right, maybe I want a little more than just her forgiveness. From the way she's looking at me, though, smiling in response to the grin I just gave her, I think that might work out. I nod. "All right," I say. "I'll go to your ball."

I don't have to look at Dumbledore to know that he's smiling. "Well, then," he says brightly, "we'd better see about finding you dress robes. Shall we?"

I nod. "Yes, let's go." Ginny smiles at me, and we all leave the office.

fin

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Please review! It's good for you. And for me.


	3. Absolution

Author notes: So, this whole story arc of Commiseration, Mitigation and Absolution (I've come to think of it in my head as the "-ation cycle") was only supposed to be that first story. But then people wanted sequels, and then . . . I don't really know what happened. But this really is the finale, the LAST story in the arc, so don't ask me for anymore! Because I won't listen! Grr!

This is from kind of an odd POV. It's probably not what anyone expected, but I like it this way. See, when I first started considering doing this third piece, it was going to be Ginny and Draco and dancing and love and tears, but as time wore on I realized that I wouldn't be able to do that without it coming out trite. I simply didn't have it in me to do the story that way and have it come out with any real literary merit. So I wasn't going to do it.

And then, last night, I had the this odd idea, to do in another way entirely, and I decided to write it down simply to see if I could do it this way. And when I could, I decided I ought to post it. It's not at all what anyone- including me- expected it to be, but I think I like it pretty well.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who's stuck with me through all of this, and enjoy the last story!

* * *

Absolution 

I never went to school with any Malfoys. Lucius and Narcissa graduated from Hogwarts twenty years ago, nearly a decade before my time, and their only son was at school with my youngest brother, so I never knew him, either. Perhaps this is why I've never been as much into the Malfoy and Weasley rivalry as the rest of my family. Charlie's the same way- he has no particular like or dislike of the Malfoys either. At family gatherings, when Ron would start ranting about "those arrogant gits," Charlie and I would simply look at each other and shrug.

The rest of the family spent ages hating the Malfoys. Fred and George didn't care much either way, being too caught up in their own doings to bother with petty arguments, but everyone else, even my mum, could rage about the Malfoys for hours. It seemed silly to me, but then again, I never had to put up with any flack from that family myself, so I suppose I really can't say how everyone else should have dealt with them.

The rivalry with the Malfoys is on my mind so much today because I'm at home, at a family party. Normally I don't spare too much thought for the rivalry, but it's impossible to not think about it when I'm with all the family, because the rivalry with the Malfoys- and with one of them in particular- has become a major part of my family's history. I think that none of us who were there will ever be able to forget, as long as we live, the moment when Draco Malfoy appeared in our lives.

Tucked inside an old photo album on the living room bookshelf is a picture that was taken that night. I pull it out now, one corner of my mouth quirking into a wry smile, as I sit back on the couch. The picture seems such an innocent thing: two young people in nice robes at a dance, looking around as though slightly unsure of themselves. No one could ever guess at all the emotion and back story behind this picture by just looking at it- though they might have a hint of it if they happened to know the identity of the blonde young man it showed.

If anyone did happen to recognize the young man as Draco Malfoy, then they might begin to guess at the story behind that picture, at the burning emotions that shot like sparks that night. They might remember the handsome young scion of the noble line of Malfoy who lost everything in the war- his parents, his good name, his innocence. They might remember reports that he had joined the Death Eaters partway through the war, though he never rose to any prominence. If they know this, they probably also know he disappeared at the end of the war and was presumed dead for several months.

If people remember anything about Draco Malfoy, it will be the reports they heard of the night he returned to England. No one who wasn't there, though, could really understand how everyone felt on seeing him. Only those of us there at the Ministry's ball to celebrate the three-month anniversary of the end of the war really know how things went. And of those of us who were there, I think that I probably know the story best. My judgement and perception weren't clouded by prejudice against Draco Malfoy; more to the point, I saw much more of the story than everyone else did, because it involved my own sister.

Less than a hundred people were invited to the Ministry's war anniversary ball. This was for good reason: the ballroom wasn't that big; also, with as many important people as were going to be there, it was necessary to keep security fairly tight. Most of all, the Ministry had almost no money to spend on a ball; its coffers had been emptied in the war effort, and now it had to work on saving the taxes it collected and refilling the treasury.

For this reason, relatively few people received invitations: high ranking Ministry officials, important civilians, some of the war's best soldiers, and, of course, the Order of the Phoenix. This meant the entire Weasley clan was invited, even Percy, although he'd never been trusted enough to be let officially into the Order. We were excited to get to go as a family- as a whole family, as luckily we hadn't lost anyone in the war- and we were even more excited to have any reason to celebrate. For several dark months, we'd been convinced there would never be a reason to celebrate again.

We all went to the Ministry offices together, Apparating from the Burrow. Even Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, my brother's two best friends and two of the greatest heroes of the war, were there; after all we'd been through together, they're really family.

The only person not there was Ginny, who'd said she'd meet us there. Perhaps that should have tipped us off- Ginny is an absolute homebody who always wants the family to do things together- but none of us thought twice as we adjusted our robes and performed the spell to take us to the ball.

The ball was a lavish affair. I'd been in the ballroom at the Ministry only once before, when it was being used to house refugees. Now, though, it looked completely different than it had then. The marble floors and columns had been polished until they shone in the light from the newly-restored crystal chandeliers. The walls were hung with tapestries, both valuable antiques and newly woven images of triumphs and heroes from the war- the largest, I noted with amusement, had the Weasley name on it, written on a border around a giant phoenix, along with the names of the rest of the Order. Never before had I thought to be on a tapestry.

At the back of the ballroom was a raised dais on which a small orchestra was set up; at the front was a stage, hung with banners from the Ministry, the Order, and Hogwarts. Apparently Fudge was doing everything he could to make up for the time he'd spent fighting against Dumbledore at the beginning of the war. I was sure that Dumbledore, who didn't seem to have arrived yet, would find the banners as silly as I did.

As the ballroom started to fill with people, I quickly found Fleur DeLacour, who was my girlfriend at the time. As we stood near the walls and talked, the room continued to fill with people, many looking important and rich, some of them friends of mine from the Order. Everyone was dressed in their finest robes. Even the formerly impoverished Remus Lupin, who arrived with a group from the Order, was in new formal robes, which he had purchased with the money he got in his new job at the Department of Magical Creatures.

Two of the people I was looking most keenly for, though, did not arrive: Dumbledore and my sister Ginny. I figured they might be arriving together, for some reason of their own, because Ginny had gone up to Hogwarts that morning to see the old headmaster. Whatever their reason was, though, they remained elusive. Fudge got up on stage to welcome everyone to the party, and Dumbledore and Ginny hadn't shown up yet. The orchestra struck up and played through their first set; still they did not arrive.

I danced with Fleur for most of the songs, though I danced one with Charlie's girlfriend, one with Hermione and two with my mother. During the orchestra's break, I caught up with some of my friends from the Order, who I hadn't seen for some time. A few minutes later, the orchestra started up again, and I continued to dance, though I was beginning to get a bit worried about Ginny. What if something had happened to her?

Several waltzes later, the orchestra announced the last song of their second set. By this time, it had grown somewhat late, and I was feeling a little more concerned. It was not like Ginny to be so late.

Fleur came up to ask me to dance, but when she saw my face, her bright blue eyes immediately filled with concern. "What is it, Bill?" she asked, her accent barely detectable after so much time spent in England. I shrugged. "Ginny hasn't shown up yet. She's normally not late for these kinds of things, and I know she was excited for tonight. I don't know why she's not here." Ginny and I had always been close, despite the large difference in our ages. She was my innocent baby sister, and I was her protective big brother. I wondered if that closeness had me overly concerned over something that wasn't a big deal.

"She Floo'd us this afternoon and said she'd be arriving with Dumbledore," said a voice behind me, and I turned to see my dad standing behind me, my mother's arm in his. "Oh," I said, feeling relieved. "That's good. I was just worried that maybe something had happened to her on the way here."

"I'm sure she's fine," said Mum in a soothing fashion. "If she's with Dumbledore, what could happen to her?"

"Anything!" boomed a voice behind Fleur, and I smiled to see Alastor Moody approaching. He had a number of new scars, and a few body parts that'd had to be replaced with wood or metal, but other than that he seemed to have escaped the war hale and sane. "Constant vigilance!" he boomed again. Well, as hale and sane as he had ever been, which is not saying that much. He continued. "I'd find out where that little girl of yours is pretty quick! Anything happens that's out of the ordinary, of the usual routine, could be a sign that something's gone wrong." We all laughed while he looked at us in annoyance. Little did we know how close to the truth his blazon would turn out to be.

As the orchestra finished their song, I glanced over at the entrance and saw Albus Dumbledore entering slowly, his eyes alert in his weathered face. He seemed to have aged a lot during the war- and he was a very old man to begin with- but in spite of this he maintained his warm humor and sagacity. Right now, he seemed very peaceful- as peaceful as I'd seen him since the war ended.

"There's Dumbledore," I said. "I'm going to go see if Ginny came with him." Fleur nodded, deep in a conversation with Moody. "You go ahead," she said. "Come find me later." I nodded and strolled across the ballroom.

Before I reached Dumbledore, though, he was pulled toward the stage by Fudge. Not wanting to interrupt the two most important men in wizarding Britain, I glanced over the ballroom once, then headed out into the hall to find Ginny myself.

After looking around to get my bearings, I strode off down the hall. Before I'd gotten two steps, Dumbledore's voice suddenly boomed out, magically magnified to be heard in the ballroom and all the surrounding corridors. _Probably another 'congratulations' speech,_ I thought. I'd heard enough of those in the past few months to keep me satisfied for a lifetime, so I kept walking, though I kept half my attention on Dumbledore's words.

"Dearest friends and comrades in arms, we are gathered here to celebrate the courage of those who fought, lived and died to free us from the Dark Lord's bondage." There was a faint cheer from the direction of the ballroom. "We had many brave witches and wizards out in battle. But not only the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic had heroes who fought the war. There are many ways to fight, and all those who stood up to the Dark Lord's tyranny are heroes as well."

It was all more of the same speeches I'd heard a hundred times. They were nice, but nothing life-changing. Ginny was not down by the main entrance of the Ministry, so I turned and started tracking back to check the other direction. I passed the door to the ballroom, glanced in to check for my sister, then went on to check the rest of the corridors.

Dumbledore was continuing, finishing some statement I only half-caught about honoring those who fought. Then his speech changed a little. "There is one other person who has not been mentioned yet- a true unsung hero, without whom we never could have brought the conflict to an end." My ears perked up and I listened more closely as I headed to check one last corridor. Who could Dumbledore be talking about?

At precisely that moment, I turned the corner and came face to face with known Death Eater Draco Malfoy.

I recognized him immediately, as all witches and wizards in Britain would have, and instantly my hand was in my robes, pulling out my wand to point it in his face. I had no quarrel with him, the way my family did- I could only imagine what Ron would be doing in this situation- but all Death Eaters were to be arrested and taken to trial for their crimes.

His eyes widened, but he didn't move. I didn't know what I would do with him- bring him into the ballroom and ruin the festivities?- but at that moment he distracted me by looking at something just behind me. Before I could turn to try to pull a wand on whoever it was he had brought with him, a slender, pale hand reached out from behind me to pull my wand away from the Death Eater's face. "Bill, don't!" cried a voice.

I recognized that voice. "Ginny?" I asked in disbelief, gaping at my little sister as she walked up next to me. She was in green formal dress robes, her hair done up in a twist. Now that I looked closer, I realized that Draco Malfoy was in formals too, the accents on his black robe matching Ginny's dress.

I must have looked thoroughly confused, because Ginny laughed, a quiet, somewhat nervous sound. "Bill," she smiled, "I'm glad it's you, because you'll understand."

"Ginny?" I asked slowly, my wand still drawn. "Do you know who this is?"

A similar look crossed over both their faces- a quick frown of sadness and frustration. I was startled at the emotion on the blonde war criminal's face, and I got the sudden impression that he hated this question because he'd been trying to escape from who he was. When Ginny spoke, I listened carefully, wanting to understand what was going on.

"Yes, I know who he is," she said, smiling a little, a small and somewhat wary grin. "Do _you_ know who he is, Bill?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Uh, Draco Malfoy?" I asked, wondering if there was something I didn't know.

Despite the tension in the air, Ginny laughed, and both I and the blonde man in front of me relaxed a little. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Well, yes. But in addition to that- well, listen." She pointed upward, and I immediately knew she meant to listen to Dumbledore's speech, which had been droning on all this while. I immediately looked up, although there was nothing to see, and listened.

"This person risked everything to help us. They lived with the very real possibility of being found out and killed by Voldemort, so that they could spy for the Order of the Phoenix."

Realization dawned on me as Dumbledore continued rumbling on overhead. "Him?" I asked Ginny, tilting my head toward Draco, who was looking strangely embarrassed. She nodded.

I pressed on in surprise. "Draco Malfoy, of the Malfoys of England, spied on the Death Eaters?" She nodded again.

I started putting pieces together in my head. "Dumbledore wants to reveal the truth here so that all of the high-ups will be convinced and not throw him in jail?" Nod. "And you're with him because . . . it gives him credibility?" Another nod. "And . . . you realize Ron's going to have a fit?"

This time they both nodded, a little glumly, and I had to grin. "And you're absolutely sure that he did everything Dumbledore says he did?" I asked, and Ginny nodded earnestly. "I'm positive."

I studied Draco a long moment, while Ginny watched me, waiting for my reaction. Then I smiled. "Well, if you and Dumbledore trust him, I trust him, too." I stuck out my hand for Draco to shake, while the blonde man looked at me in surprise. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm behind you all the way. Although," I said, as though considering, "those of us on your side are a sorry little lot right now, aren't we?"

Draco nodded glumly as he reached out to shake my hand. "This is never going to work," he said, and I was surprised at how young he sounded. In my mind I'd always pictured him as a hardened, angry old sinner, but right then he sounded very young and very scared.

"We owe him everything," Dumbledore was saying, "and I would like for us to give him the thanks he deserves."

"Oh! That's our cue," said Ginny, catching at Draco's hand and leading him toward the door of the ballroom. I followed. Just outside the door, they paused to wait for Dumbledore's introduction. As I started walking out, Ginny turned and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Bill," she said, and I smiled.

Then I passed Draco, and I gave him a wry smile and a clap on the shoulder. "Good luck, Malfoy. You're going to need it." He looked back at me, looking nervous and pale, and gave me a shaky smile.

Once I was inside, I dashed back to where my family was standing. No way was I missing a moment of this. Mum and Dad pressed me about where I'd been, but I shushed them and pointed to Dumbledore, who was still talking. "With all this in mind," the old headmaster said, "I'd like everyone to welcome the unsung hero of the second wizard war, Mr. Draco Malfoy!"

It was like one of those moments in Muggle movies where everyone just stares and all you can hear is the crickets chirping. Draco entered the room slowly, Ginny on his arm, and looked nervously around at all the people there, who were staring at him in fear and hatred. He looked quickly at my sister, and she smiled reassuringly and led him toward the dance floor.

The silence was stretching along unbearingly. I looked around quickly. Should I clap? Cheer? Do something to make the moment less awkward? Fortunately, at that moment Dumbledore looked up at the orchestra. "May we have some more music?" he asked, smiling beatifically in the way that only Albus Dumbledore could after throwing a former Death Eater into a room full of Aurors and Ministry officials. "I think I fancy a waltz."

The orchestra leader quickly started up his group, obviously glad to break the silence. As the music played, I saw Ginny turn hesitantly to Draco and say something, and he hesitantly placed one hand on her waist and took her hand with his other.

The scene was very sweet, but as the strange couple began to move across the floor, I heard pounding footsteps behind me. I turned around just in time to see Ron storming across the floor. He was, as I'd expected, throwing a fit. I quickly grabbed him round the chest and held him back.

As he struggled to get loose, I looked around, located Charlie, and nodded toward Harry. Charlie nodded in understanding and rushed forward to stop the Boy Who Lived, who was also storming across the floor with fire in his eyes, though not quite so quickly as Ron had been.

Fred and George, always wanting to get in on the action, ran toward Hermione, who had not been storming anywhere, and grabbed her arms, looking around intimidatingly as though to dare anyone to challenge them. Charlie and I both laughed as Hermione wriggled indignantly, and then I looked over to watch my baby sister waltz with a Slytherin.

After a few moments of struggling, Ron gave up and started to yell. "You get your filthy dark hands off my sister!" he bellowed, and Draco and Ginny slowed and then stopped dancing to look at him. Draco's expression was carefully blank, but Ginny looked embarrassed and hurt.

Ron continued to yell until my dear, clever Fleur performed a silencing spell on him, an annoyed expression on her face. As he continued to mouth words that were probably not fit for polite company, Ginny and Draco approached us slowly, Ginny still looking hurt but beginning to get angry.

"Ron," she said slowly, her voice dripping with venom. Ron stopped his silent ranting and looked at her, obviously surprised at her anger. "Listen," she said, poking her older brother in the chest. The music kept playing, but the whole ballroom was still, everyone wanting to see what would happen but most too proud to admit that they were keeping such a close eye on the goings on. "I am here with Draco by my own choice, so please show a little more courtesy to my date."

"But Ginny, it's Draco Malfoy!" shouted Harry over the sound of the orchestra, because Ron still couldn't talk. "Don't you know what he's done? He was a Death Eater! A murderer!"

Draco blanched, but Ginny simply turned to Harry as cool as could be. "And don't you know that he turned to our side? He's the reason we won the war." Then she bit her lip, and I knew that her next words, although addressed to Harry, were more for Draco to hear. "And as for what he did as a Death Eater, he's sorry." She turned to Draco. "And I forgive him." Draco's face softened, and he took Ginny's hand to lead her onto the dance floor, leaving a flabbergasted Ron and Harry behind them.

It took two whole songs for Ron to calm down, both of which Draco danced with Ginny. Other people began joining them on the floor, though not so many as there had been before. Most of these people made a point to avoid Draco and Ginny- I suppose even Dumbledore's word wasn't enough for some people- but a few danced very closely to them in order to get a good look at the former killer and apparent spy.

When Ron finally stopped struggling against my hold, I released him, performing the counter spell to the silence Fleur had put on him. "Now, Ronnykins," I said in the firm tone of someone disciplining a child, "if I let you go dance, can you promise not to fight with Mr. Malfoy?" Ron scowled deeply, but finally agreed. From the looks of it, Charlie was giving Harry a similar talk.

As Ron stalked away, probably to go shoo the twins away from Hermione, Fleur came up behind me and placed her hand on my arm. "That was interesting," she said softly. "Everything Dumbledore said was true?" I placed a hand over hers. "I suppose so. I can't think of any reason he'd lie." I grinned at her. "By the way, thanks for taking care of Ron back there."

"Any time," she grinned. "You know I hate to hear him bellow."

We sat in silence for a few moments and watched the dancing couples, until Harry approached Ginny and Draco, obviously asking them if he could cut in. Draco looked slightly upset by this, but Ginny obviously couldn't think of a reason to say no, so she nodded and went to dance with him, Draco's eyes following her all the while.

After watching Ginny go, Draco walked slowly off the dance floor, looking very alone. No one near him was really talking to him, and he looked decidedly down. An idea occurred to me, and I turned to Fleur and smiled. "What?" she demanded suspiciously.

It took a lot of convincing, but she finally agreed, and with an exaggerated sigh she walked across the ballroom and asked Draco to dance with her. He looked surprised, but agreed and led her onto the dance floor. Ginny, seeing them whirl by her, looked at them in surprise, then looked back at me and smiled. I smiled back and settled into a chair to watch the dancers.

The rest of the evening passed in much the same way. Draco danced with Ginny nearly every song. The only times he got asked by other women was when Charlie, Fred, George and I asked our girlfriends to go ask him to dance. We only did this when Harry, Ron or one of their school friends, obviously trying to keep Ginny away from Draco, would cut in. Watching them, I sighed. Apparently having Draco around was going to take a lot of getting used to.

And I felt quite sure that he was going to be around, as I watched him dance with Ginny the final time. The orchestra leader announced that the last song would be a slow dance, then started the orchestra on something soft and romantic. Ginny had been dancing with Harry on the song before, but Draco approached them and cut in very firmly. I smiled as I saw it.

As Harry and Ron both looked at them somewhat angrily, Draco led Ginny out onto the dance floor, holding her hand gently. He looked around uncomfortably a moment, unsure of where to put his hands, and Ginny smiled and threw her arms around his neck. He smiled back and put his arms around her waist, and they swayed slowly to the strains of the orchestra. When the song ended, she smiled openly and warmly at Draco, and kissed him softly on the cheek. Draco's eyes closed ever-so-briefly as Ginny kissed him, and Fleur sighed at the sweetness of it all and laid her head on my shoulder. "They make a cute couple, don't they?" she said, and I had to agree.

As the couples all separated, Colin Creevey, apparently trying to extend the olive branch, approached Draco and Ginny with his ever-present camera. Ginny smiled at Colin, and then at Draco, who gave an exaggerated sigh and turned to face the camera. He placed his arm gingerly around her shoulders and smiled rather unsurely for the picture.

I, standing nearby with Fleur, could see the look on Draco's face, the tenderness with which held his arm around her shoulders, and I smiled. Yes, it seemed Draco Malfoy would be around for a long time yet.

And he has been. It took a long time for people to start accepting him, or at least to stop their old habits of cursing at him in the streets. When the Ministry of Magic cleared him of all charges and crimes, however, most people came around and began to tolerate Draco a lot better. He even managed to get a job as a clerk at a lawyer's office, and he's been working his way up through the ranks since then.

For my family, though, acceptance was a lot harder to come by. After the "mess at the ball," as Dad called it, he, Mum and Percy had trouble having civil conversations with Ginny, and Ron refused even to see her until she "stopped hanging around with that common criminal." Ginny came to my apartment to cry a lot for the first month or so.

In time, though, Percy came around, figuring that if the Ministry had cleared Draco of his crimes, what else did they need? Mum broke down next, unable to hold a grudge against her beloved baby girl. Then Dad gave in, slowly but surely, hating to pain both his wife and daughter. In time, all three came to regard it as wonderfully charitable that Ginny had helped a man restore his good name.

Ron, however, wasn't nearly so forgiving. He didn't speak to Ginny for months. It was lucky he had moved away from home, or else things would have gotten ugly, I'm sure. Harry was angry with Ginny, too, though he calmed down a bit after Dumbledore took him aside and gave him the full account of Draco's doings. Even so, according to Ginny, any time she and the trio were in the same room, the boys would refuse to talk, while Hermione apologized to her profusely for their actions.

This upset Ginny a lot, but she always knew they'd come around. Besides, she was too happy to worry too much. As I'd suspected, the way Draco had looked at Ginny that night had not been simply out of gratitude for helping him clear his name. And that picture Colin took of them at the dance was the first of many that show them happily together.

Coming back from the places my thoughts have been, I realize said picture is still in my hand, and I study it in amusement for a long moment. Then I put it away and head outside, where the whole Weasley clan has finished dessert and is sprawled across the backyard, talking. My parents are there, as is Fleur, who soon after the ball was promoted from girlfriend to wife. All the brothers and their significant others are in various spots throughout the yard. The trio is even here, home from their trips all over the country as Aurors.

And near the porch, under the shade of a tall tree, the first blonde Weasley descendant in many generations sits in her uncle Ron's lap, pulling at his tie. He smiles goofily at her, and she giggles, earning a smile from Harry and Hermione. It's always good to see them so warm and friendly, when for so long they were still fighting with Ginny.

Ron and Harry finally mended their quarrel with Ginny when they received the invitation to her wedding. Ron finally admitted that whatever his quarrel with Malfoy was, it wasn't worth losing his sister over, and when Ginny married Draco and became Mrs. Ginevra Malfoy, Ron and Harry were sitting in the first row.

At just this moment, Ginny and Draco appear from the kitchen, where they were doing dishes from dinner. Ginny runs out to play with her little girl, and Draco looks around, then comes to stand next to me. I happen to know it's because I'm his favorite brother-in-law. His face is lit with a contented smile. "So, how's life?" I ask, already sure I know the answer from the look on his face.

The smile widens. "Perfect," he says, then looks out into the sunset. He ponders a moment, then speaks softly and thoughtfully. "It's hard to believe that two years ago, the only thing I wanted to do was hide out in the middle of Ireland until I died. I thought that the only way to sort out the mess that was my life was for me to disappear for good."

"And now?" I prompt.

"And now my life is everything I never thought it could be. I finally feel like I'm being forgiven for everything I've done."

I smile at him. "Well, we're glad to have you here." I glance over at Fred and George. "Because you know the twins always enjoy having someone to test products on."

Draco looks over the twins, their heads bent over a notebook, and laughs. "Well, it's nice to be wanted." With another smile, he walks down into the grass to join his family.

fin

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Yay, the end of the -ation cycle! Yippee! Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed, and feel free to review again! Or for the first time! 


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